


Million Dollar Man

by starkercrossedlovers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, M/M, Peter Parker is a stripper, it's tony's bday and he's getting a lapdance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkercrossedlovers/pseuds/starkercrossedlovers
Summary: Tony gets taken to a strip club for his birthday and falls a little in love at the sight of the pretty stripper who gives him a lap dance.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

  * It’s Tony’s 48th birthday and he’s been hauled out of the tower by Rhodey, Thor and Bruce with the promise that whatever it is they have planed will be better than getting drunk by himself.
  * When they usher him into a high end burlesque and strip club he rolls his eyes, he’s seen it all so this isn’t much better than being home, drunk
  * They watch about a half dozen performances before a figure appears at his side, taps on his shoulder and draws his gaze up to see the most beautiful boy he’s ever laid eyes on
  * His lips are painted and his long lean legs are encased in black fishnet stockings. The narrow curve of his waist is drawn into greater detail by a vinyl black corset that makes him look delectable.
  * His gaze sweeps the boy and despite himself, he’s _very_ interested _._
  * “I heard it’s your birthday, is that right daddy?” the boy croons, smirking at him with plush lips and twinkling eyes. He leans down and braces his hands on the arms of Tony’s chair, his muscles flexing as he sways in and smirks, “How about a dance?”
  * Tony can’t do more than nod, swallowing hard when the boy looks over his shoulder and nods at someone. When the music starts, Tony’s heart skips a beat, he’s fuckin toast.
  * More than one person in the club watches as the boy sways and rolls his hips, not even touching Tony yet. It’s sensuous and hot and god, he’s getting hard already
  * “Have you been a bad boy this year daddy?” The boy whispers it as he braces himself on the chair once more and rolls his body dangerously close to Tony’s
  * Tony nods, eyes wide and hungry on the boy. The kid grins, all predatory teeth and gleaming promise. When he drops to a crouch and shoves Tony’s thighs open, he can’t help the gasp that slips out.
  * “Are you a nasty boy? Huh daddy? Do you need a spanking?”
  * Tony nods unsteadily in agreement, heart lurching when the boy laughs and slides his hands up Tony’s thighs, thumbs sinking into the flesh of his hips as he leans up, lips scant breaths from Tony’s
  * “Want me to blow your mind daddy?”
  * “ _Fuck yea”_ tony gasps, hands clenching at his sides, desperate to touch the boy, but he can’t, he knows the rules.
  * The boy just laughs and spins, bending all the way over so his tiny shorts pull up along the full swells of his ass and **fuckfuckfuck** Tony’s _gone_
  * He wiggles and sways his hips as he slides his hands up his legs and glances over his shoulder at Tony, smirking darkly
  * “Wanna spank me daddy? C’mon, give it to me,” he taunts, shaking his ass.
  * Tony’s first slap is tentative
  * “Ooo is that all you got?”
  * Something dark and hungry seizes tony and he smacks harder on the boy’s ass, enjoying the bolt of heat that goes through him at the moan from the boy’s painted lips
  * “That’s it daddy, harder”
  * Tony slaps his ass harder, watching as the milky skin turns pink and then rosy red. He’s so hard he thinks that if the kid even sits in his lap he’ll cum
  * After ten spanks the boy turns and invades Tony’s space, eye dark and wide with need
  * “Thank you daddy,” he breathes “I’m all hot and bothered, are you?”
  * Tony nods and the kid grins before slinging his arms around Tony’s neck, his full ass settling into Tony’s lap firmly
  * He can’t help the groan that slips out and his hands land lightly on those slim hips, holding on as the boy rolls his hips and leans in to whisper “Are you all wet for me daddy? C’mon daddy, tell me.”
  * “Y-yes,” tony gasps, groaning when the boy grinds down in response.
  * “Nasty, naughty boy,” the kid croons, teeth nipping at his earlobe
  * Tony’s eyes roll back in his head at the sensation, and he’s close, so so close
  * The kid rocks forward and swipes his finger through the icing of the cake they have and paints it on Tony’s lips
  * “Gimme a taste,” he demands as Tony’s tongue darts out to taste it
  * Tony groans and nods and then the kid leans in and _devours_ him, lips and teeth and tongue sucking away all the sugar and passing it between them until his mouth is flooded by sticky sweetness
  * The boy grinds into him as he kisses Tony, the steady pressure and friction of his hips and the demanding kisses enough to make him spill into his jeans with a guttural groan
  * His hips chase the sensation and eventually the boy pulls back, cheeks flushed and pupils wide. He smirks slowly and leans in for one last kiss before he gets up and winks
  * “Happy Birthday Mr. Stark.”




	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are embedded links to the songs that play during this chapter, check em out!

Tony tries to stay away from the club, _really_ , he does. But all he can think of is the lean, pretty boy that had given him a lap dance for his birthday, how he had called him daddy, and had gotten him off untouched—something that no one else had been able to do in nearly a decade.

So he goes back.

He finds out that the kid is a regular on Saturday nights and so, he comes back, every Saturday for a month, always staying in the shadows because how cliche is it for a man in his forties to be obsessed with a pretty young stripper?

Next thing you know he’s going to be getting his ear pierced and having a mid life crisis.

(He’d never do that. Tried it in the nineties and quickly realized how stupid he looked. Plus he’s already had his fair share of crisis—mid life and more.)

It shouldn’t be so hard for him, hell, Bruce and Rhodey had both admitted that the kid was attractive and good at what he did, so why did it feel so shameful to want to see him again?

Fuck societal pressures and judgment he thinks viciously, watching the lights play off the copious amounts of skin visible in the club.

It takes far longer than it should before he works up the nerve to ask for a private dance, but when the kid meets his gaze from across the room while the manager tells him what Tony’s requested, he lets himself think that what he sees on the kid’s face is pleasure, that maybe he’s happy to see Tony.

He’d tipped over a thousand dollars for the dance on his birthday and if he wasn’t a billionaire, he might be concerned about spending that kind of money on a stripper, but, at the end of the day it’s his money and he’ll spend it how he likes.

If that means handing out wads of cash to pretty young dancers with sinful lips and hips that made his head dizzy, well, that’s money well spent to Tony.

The door to the private room opens and the kid steps in and Tony’s throat goes dry. His legs look they go on for _miles_ , sheer black thigh highs stark against his creamy gold skin, curls tousled and lips painted a deep crimson that makes his jeans grow that much tighter.

He’s got this lace bodysuit on and even from here Tony can see it barely contains his cock and suddenly he’s nervous as fuck because the kid is smirking and sauntering over, luscious hips swaying with each step he takes in his Louboutins.

“Finally decided to ask for a private dance?” the kid asks, brow lifting when Tony flushes and shifts in his seat, ducking his head in embarrassment. He’d thought he’d been more circumspect than that. “That’s ok baby, I love when pretty men like you get shy,” the kid croons, stepping closer till he’s standing right in front of Tony’s knees, the rasp of nylon on jeans quiet and scratchy.

Tony doesn’t think of himself as a shy person; he’s the richest and most well known man in the world, but here’s proof that when it comes to the stuff that he actually cares about, he’s like a kid hiding behind his mother’s skirt. Howard had hated it about him, tried to beat the cowardice out, as he had said, and in some twisted way it worked because Tony had a perfect mask for the public, always confident, able to just take what he wanted, but in private it was a much different story.

“I, uh, hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” Tony murmurs, cheeks flushing, “I just, couldn’t stop thinking about that dance you gave me for my birthday,” he admits softly.

The kid stares at him for a long moment before smiling softly, “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun,” he tells Tony. “So what are you looking for this time?” he asks before pointing and asking, “Can I sit?”

Tony nods and before he fully comprehends what’s happening, the kid is sliding into his lap, arms winding around his neck with a smirk. “There we go, that’s better hmm?” The boy croons to him. Tony nods nervously, smiling faintly as his hands clench at his sides—he’s not sure what to do with them and the kid must see it on his face because he grins and takes them, guides them to his hips and nods his encouragement.

“So, tell me Mr. Stark, what are you looking for tonight?” 

Tony thinks about it for a minute before clearing his throat, “An hour, how much would that be?” he asks.

The kid frowns and hesitates before tilting his head to study Tony, and he gets the sense that he’s being evaluated. After a long moment the kid seems satisfied by what he sees and nods, “A thousand,” he says firmly and Tony’s nodding probably far too enthusiastically, but he’s been here every Saturday for a month—the kid is fully aware of how much he likes him, so being eager now won’t be some big surprise.

“You want anything in particular?” he asks, smirking when Tony shakes his head, hands pressing into his hips hungrily. “Okay then, basic rules are, you can touch me, but if I ask you to stop, you stop. If you won’t I’ll make you regret it,” he warns, and for some reason Tony completely believes it.

He nods and the kid grins brightly for a minute before rising from his lap and heading over to the tablet on the bar, humming softly and swaying as he sets up a playlist. A few moments later the thumping bass of a [song](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3WLRB69U4giSmqIB8GOtuT%3Fsi%3Dx2JN1FdgQQe6b6NQ2xA8hQ&t=Yzc4ZTE3ZTZjNWZkMjI5N2QzM2FhMTQyMjBiMjM3ZGM1YTIyOGY3YSxEZmF3VDg0bA%3D%3D&b=t%3AVIo_jYForqNDw1onbR3P3w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fstarkercrossedlovers.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184401950505%2Fmillion-dollar-man&m=1) starts and the kid’s whole demeanor changes.

Glancing over his shoulder at Tony, the kid smirks and circles his hips, ass pushed out so Tony can clearly see his how stark the dark lace looks on his pale skin. Swallowing hard, he reclines back into the sofa and watches hungrily as the kid sways and rolls his hips, hands bracing on the counter of the bar as he pushes his ass back and rolls it side to side along with the beat.

Sweat breaks out on Tony’s neck as he watches the boy work, hips rolling in smooth movements that make the muscles in his legs and back stand out. He can imagine all too easily how the kid would look, spread out on his bed, moaning and gasping Tony’s name as he fucks him.

After a particularly filthy roll of his hips that makes Tony’s mouth go dry, the kid squats and pushes his ass out, sliding his hands up his legs as he rises slowly, glancing over his shoulder at Tony.

It’s a calculated action, designed to arouse and it works—Tony’s hard and gripping his knees, mouth dry as he watches lithe limbs move in the shadows of the room. The light is red and dark, lending a seedy air to everything that goes on in these rooms; the very picture of a Faustian orgy—filthy, depraved and utterly delicious.

Tony wonders how many people have sat on this same couch, watching this boy dance, aroused just like Tony is, and how many of them had coveted that pretty mouth and lush ass. He wonders how many have made utterly indecent proposals, trying to get their hands on that body. He wonders if the kid has ever said yes.

When the boy turns back around Tony clears his throat enough to ask, “What can I call you? _Hey kid_ doesn’t seem polite,” he jokes. The kid laughs and lets his head loll back as he spreads his arms over the counter and does full body rolls that do a very good job of distracting him.

“You can call me Jesus,” the kid quips, smirking faintly.

“Because you’re such a paragon of virtue?” Tony replies archly, smirking when the kid laughs and shakes his head.

“No, cuz I’ll get you on your knees and have you begging for me,” he murmurs over the music, pushing up off the counter to saunter over slowly as the song changes.

 _Christ_ , he thinks, he’s in so much fuckin [trouble](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1CI6YgwwNq3VfhgxPuEpE6%3Fsi%3Dt1nII1jARyeIEAxne-Obdg&t=NDBkZDgyZDJkMzdjN2U1ZmU2ZmI5NGM1ODVhYTA3MjQ5YjYxMTBlNyxEZmF3VDg0bA%3D%3D&b=t%3AVIo_jYForqNDw1onbR3P3w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fstarkercrossedlovers.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184401950505%2Fmillion-dollar-man&m=1).

Tony swallows hard, hands flexing on his knees as the kid—he refuses to call him Jesus—approaches and bends over to brace his hands beside Tony’s head, hips swaying side to side.

“Does that sound good baby?” he murmurs, painted lips turned nearly black by the lights, delicious and inviting. “Do you wanna get down for me and ask me for forgiveness for all your dirty thoughts?” Tony nods disjointedly and watches as his pretty face warms with a knowing smirk, body rolling towards Tony, movements lithe and sensuous.

“Do you want me in your lap?” he asks, smirking when Tony nods eagerly, hands twitching at his sides. Standing upright, he nudges Tony’s knees apart before stepping forward and then dropping to a squat, hands trailing up Tony’s thighs, squeezing at the top as he pushes up and spins around in a smooth graceful movement, bending over so his ass is right in Tony’s face and fuck, fuck he wants to touch _so bad._

“Can I—”

“Go ahead baby, you can touch,” the kid encourages, shooting him a smile over his shoulder. Tony wastes no time and reaches out with one hand to grab the peachy pink skin of his ass, fingers tight and possessive. The kid moans and pushes back, watching him over his shoulder as he grinds the heel of his free hand into his erection, breathing unsteadily as he slides his palm over smooth skin and under the edge of the lace that does nothing to hide what’s beneath.

“Fuck kid, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” he whispers reverently, gaze darting up to meet the dancer’s, “I wanna bite this pretty little peachy ass, eat you out till you’re all sloppy and loose,” he whispers, groaning, “bet you taste so good,” fingers tightening on his skin.

The moan that comes from the kid sounds authentic this time and he’s not sure, but he thinks his pupils look much bigger than they were just minutes ago. Abruptly, the kid straightens and Tony worries he’s gone too far, and then, the kid turns and he can see that, _shit_ , the kid is hard too.

They stare at each other for a moment before the kid steps away and heads to the tablet, fiddling with the functions for a minute that feels like an eternity before he’s back, and slides right into Tony’s lap. The song changes [yet again ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5XfywqPX6XBOdYQNbOaQvy%3Fsi%3D4Zc6Ky7nSOCYMs2kPybHYw&t=NWY2NzZhNzVlNjI2OGJmYzQzOGE3NjcwMGIyY2ViODQzMmM5NmQ4NCxEZmF3VDg0bA%3D%3D&b=t%3AVIo_jYForqNDw1onbR3P3w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fstarkercrossedlovers.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184401950505%2Fmillion-dollar-man&m=1)and the kid is pressed against him, lips by his ear so he can whisper, “The cameras are off, are you good?”

Good?

Tony laughs brokenly and grabs his hips, grinding up into him so they both moan and inhale sharply. “I’m good,” he whispers back hoarsely, hands firmly on the kid’s hips.

The kid’s breath stutters for a moment and then he’s rolling his hips, hands dragging down Tony’s shirt to feel the firm muscle beneath, eyes hooded as they stare at each other. It’s far more intimate than any lap dance he’s ever had before, and once again he thinks how special this kid is.

His hands slide up the kid’s torso to feel the way his muscles flex as he rides Tony, thumbs brushing over the pebbled skin of his nipples beneath the silk and lace, groaning when the kid gasps softly, eyelids fluttering as he grinds down harder into Tony’s cock. Pleasure sparks under his skin at the friction and he knows that it’s not going to take long, watching the kid grind on him, moaning and writhing.

Leaning up, he presses kisses over the kid’s jaw as he shoves aside the lace covering silky skin, both of them groaning as his hands make contact with the dancer’s chest. Nipping along the boy’s throat gently, he plays with those pretty blush nipples, rolling and pinching them until the kid is moaning and writhing in his lap.

“Oh, Mr. Stark,” he gasps breathily, “fuck, _so_ good.”

 _Christ_ , the **_sounds_** he makes…need makes Tony’s hands grip firmer, teeth just a little harsher, breath unsteady as he tries to see how loud he can make the kid moan.

He’s careful not to leave marks on the boy, but god, _god_ does he want to. He wants to spread him out beneath him, pale limbs writhing in his sheets, in his bed, and then take him apart piece by piece until he’s a sobbing mess. Tony growls as the kid stares down at him, moaning softly and grinding so their cocks press and slide against each other over and over again.

Tony runs a hand up his spine, curving his body toward him, the other sliding down to grab onto the plush swell of his ass. “You’ve got such a pretty ass kid, fuck I wanna wreck it, wanna spread you open and taste you,” he pants, groaning when the kid whines and nods, nails digging into the material of Tony’s shirt.

“[Fuck, I’m gonna cum](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4lXHVnmDO5u62tGJIpTafd%3Fsi%3D7r7bWbdlS4yBvDiBIg_99g&t=YmJlZDJhYjkwYTU5MDM5NThlMTNmNDljMGJiZmZjMGJmZmNiNGQyZSxEZmF3VDg0bA%3D%3D&b=t%3AVIo_jYForqNDw1onbR3P3w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fstarkercrossedlovers.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184401950505%2Fmillion-dollar-man&m=1),” Tony groans, heat crawling up his spine as the kid whines and moans, thighs trembling as he breathes unsteadily, cock twitching inside its lace cage. “Can I touch you?” Tony asks, hand hovering over the kid’s cock, “please?”

To his suprise the kid nods furiously, arching into him, pleading in a high pitched voice for Tony to touch him.

_Please Mr. Stark, please_

He’s never really had a thing about his lovers calling him anything other than Tony, but hearing the kid call him Mr. Stark in a breathless, needy voice is enough to make him lose his goddamn mind. His hand closes firmly around the kid’s cock, squeezing it through the lace and he’s instantly rewarded with a sharp cry of pleasure as the kid rocks into it, head falling back as he gasps and moans.

Tony strokes the head of his cock as he grinds his ass into Tony’s cock, both of them moaning and panting, breaths away from release. With his free hand, Tony reaches up and pulls the kid down for a breathless, hungry kiss, and as his tongue tangles with the kid’s, a shuddering moan slips past the boy’s teeth and hot wetness spreads beneath the silky lace as the kid cums.

Biting the kid’s full bottom lip, Tony strokes him as he rides out his pleasure, gasping and moaning _Mr. Stark, please, oh god, **yes**_ ; voice high and broken by little sobs of pleasure. His ass presses down into Tony’s cock and he groans as he cums too, vision blacking out for a minute as he groans and bucks his hips, panting hard at the power behind his release.

Slowly he comes to, aware that the kid has collapsed against his chest, forehead resting on his shoulder as they both breathe unsteadily. Unconsciously he rubs a hand over the kid’s back, humming softly as he turns his face and inhales the scent of his hair.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in the soft curls of the dancer’s hair. “Thank you for letting me touch you,” he whispers sincerely. The kid makes a soft noise and nods faintly, still breathing unsteadily. They sit in silence for a long time, music still playing as Tony toys with his hair and strokes his back .

He has to remind himself that despite how easily he can picture doing this again and again, it’s nothing more than business to the kid. He fights the part of him that whispers _is it? He let me touch him, let me get him off. That’s not business, that’s real._

Eventually the kid unentangles himself and rises on unsteady legs, grabs wipes from behind the counter and offers him some shyly, smile warm and soft. “So, we still have twenty minutes left, what would you like?” he asks softly, standing before Tony hesitantly.

He cleans himself up hastily, tossing the wipes into the nearby trash can, pondering the question—what _does_ he want? To get to know the kid? To fuck him? He hesitates because, well, he kind of wants _both_ those things, but he’s not going to fuck someone when he doesn’t know their name—another thing he left behind in the nineties—and if he’s honest, the kid intrigues him.

He chews his lip for second and then holds out a hand, “Can we just talk?” he asks nervously, hoping that the look on the kid’s face is real, that maybe he’s just as nervous about this as Tony is, that maybe he felt something between them that he hasn’t before with a customer.

The kid nods slowly and takes the hand he offers, letting himself be pulled down so his legs are slung across Tony’s lap and his back is pressed to the arm of the couch. “So tell me about yourself,” Tony murmurs, hands running up and down his muscular calves, massaging gently.

He can feel it when the boy relaxes, tension melting away under Tony’s hands, any lingering wariness disappearing when Tony gently lifts his feet into his lap and tugs his shoes off. He massages the arch first, working at the tension there, smiling when the kid groans, head falling back against the arm of the couch.

“I, uh, I’m a pretty stereotypical stripper,” the kid says, voice low and sleepy sounding. “Working to afford college. Pay bills. Help out my aunt.” His eyes crack open and peer at Tony as he continues massaging, “But I’m also just good at it,” he says, no hint of guile in his face, maybe even a little proud of this fact, and Tony nods in agreement, smirking softly.

“What are you studying?” Tony asks, moving on to the balls of his feet, softening his touch when the boy winces and flexes his toes. The kid smiles softly in thanks, toes nudging his thigh for a second before he leans further into the couch, eyes hooded as he watches Tony and talks.

“Biochemistry and mechanical engineering.”

Tony grins in delighted surprise, “My specialities!” He studies the kid for a second and then glances down at his feet, watching his fingers work, “Have you applied for a Stark Industries internship?”

There’s a long moment of silence and when he looks up the kid is blushing, “I wish, but I already have to work as many hours here as I can. It’s usually just Saturday nights, but I’ve been picking up a few nights a week to try and earn more. I wouldn’t have the time,” he admits, shaking his head and biting his lip unhappily.

Tony nods slowly, biting back the urge to offer him a paid internship; he doesn’t want the kid to think he’s trying to bribe him with a job for…what? Sex? Lap dances? Affection?

Grimacing, he focuses his attention on the kid’s toes, glancing up when he hears a soft moan under the music that’s still playing. He watches the kid as he keeps massaging, laid out on the couch in lace and silk, hair touseled and body lax with pleasure, and a flush of desire runs through him, followed by a larger one of affection that takes him off guard.

Switching feet, he presses a little harder and watches the kid squirm, attention drawn to where his cock is fattening up beneath the lace bodysuit once more.

“Do you want me to stop?” he offers, giving the kid’s groin a pointed look when his eyes slip open with a sleepy, dazed look between his cock and Tony’s face.

“No, ‘s fine,” he murmurs, “it’ll go away,” eyes falling shut as Tony hums in agreement and continues massaging him. They sit in companionable silence until the kid suddenly opens his eyes and stares at Tony, gaze curious. “What do you want from me?” he asks pointedly, “because I’m not someone that sleeps with people for money, despite the misconception people have about strippers. So do you just want to see me dance, or is this about sex?”

Tony stares at him, stunned and then shakes his head slowly. “I don’t, I’m not going to pay you to have sex with me. I like you, think you’re gorgeous and I’d very much like to have sex with you, but I’m not going to pressure you or withhold payment for tonight to try and make it happen.”

The kid stares at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Okay,” he agrees, “okay…” he seems to ponder something for a moment before leaning up and holding out his hand, “Peter Parker, nice to meet you.”

Tony stares at the hand for moment and then grins, shakes it and laughs, “Tony Stark, nice to finally meet you Peter,” he teases, enjoying the way the kid—Peter’s—cheeks turn pink. A quick glance at his watch tells him their hour is almost up so he retracts his hand and leaves it on Peter’s knee, thumb caressing the inside where the skin is the most delicate, sensitive.

Peter’s breath hitches and god, Tony wants to do everything he can to hear that sound over and over again, but they don’t have time, and this isn’t where he wants to do it. Sighing softly he squeezes Peter’s knee and smiles faintly, “If I ask for your number, is that horribly cliche?” he asks lightly, hoping Peter will hear the vulnerability in his voice and take mercy on him.

Peter grins and shakes his head, “Anyone who makes me cum like that _and_ gives me a massage has thoroughly earned my number,” he replies archly, brow lifting wryly, “which, just so you know has happened exactly once.”

Tony’s stomach dips with a thrill of pleasure, a grin spreading slowly across his face as Peter smiles back. They sit there, smiling at each other until Tony realizes he’s staring and should probably stop so he doesn’t look like such a besotted fool. Digging out his phone, he offers it to the kid, watching as he puts his number in with a dopey little grin that makes his heart turn over.

Peter offers the phone back and then pulls his feet out of Tony’s lap with a sigh of regret, rearranging his lingerie before he slips his heels back on, wincing at the strain they put on his newly relaxed muscles. A hand at the small of his back lifts his gaze to find Tony standing beside him, gazing down at him affectionately.

Turning and leaning up slightly, he kisses Tony, slow and sweet and utterly delicious, and Tony can’t help but put his hands on those slim hips and pull him closer. Peter makes a soft noise and leans into his chest, arms winding around his neck as Tony kisses him, trying to memorize his taste before he’s forced to step back and put a little space between them so they can both breathe.

His forehead rests on Peter’s as they breathe, bodies close, heat radiating from Peter’s skin and he wants to touch, taste, explore every inch of him, all night. Sighing, he smiles softly, “I’ll call you tomorrow?” he offers, throat thick with emotions that he can’t quite parse.

Peter nods and smiles faintly, “It’s my day off, so, we could do brunch if you want,” he murmurs.

“Yea, brunch sounds good. Do you want to come to the Tower? I can have anything delivered. Give you a tour of my lab,” he offers hopefully.

Peter grins and arches a brow, “Trying to seduce me with science Mr. Stark?” he teases and Tony blushes, shaking his head faintly.

“I’m not the one doing the seducing here,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to cup Peter’s chin, thumb caressing his bottom lip slowly. Peter’s breath hitches and his eyes widen as realization spread through him and Tony lifts his brows in acknowledgment of what he’s just revealed.

Peter nods and leans up for another kiss, soft and sweet. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers against Tony’s lips, pulling away slowly, as if he regrets having to leave the warm embrace of Tony’s arms. Tony tugs on his hand and slides the money he’s owed for the dance into his palm, giving Peter a questioning look, hoping he knows that Tony’s just paying him what he agreed on.

Peter nods and curls his fingers around the cash and Tony’s hand, squeezing gently before backing away and smiling over his shoulder as he goes.

Tony watches him walk to the door and nods, “Tomorrow,” he agrees softly, smiling when Peter looks back and stares at him, a yearning expression on his face that makes Tony’s stomach flip with nervous excitement.

The door shuts behind Peter and he exhales heavily, grin spreading as he realizes that he’s not going to have to wait till next Saturday to see the boy.

He can’t seem to stop grinning, and when he crawls into bed that night he stares up at the ceiling for hours, too keyed up and happy to sleep just yet.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

* * *

Peter is stupidly nervous.

He’s changed his outfit six times before deciding on dark wash skinny jeans with rips in the thighs and knees, a baggy band T-shirt and converse, and he’s still not sure it’s right.

What does one wear when having brunch with the (in)famous Tony Stark?

He’s pacing outside the tower, trying to calm himself down when someone calls out, “Kid, you coming in?”

He looks up, startled, and finds Tony leaning against the doorframe, smirking faintly at him. A flush rises in his cheeks and he nods, hurrying forward as Tony steps inside and leads him to an elevator, the older man glancing over his shoulder to make sure he’s close behind.

When the elevator doors slide shut Tony leans on the far wall, arms crossed over his chest and grins, “So, were you gonna run?” he asks wryly.

Peter flushes again and shakes his head earnestly, “No I just, I wasn’t sure I was dressed right and I didn’t know if you’d feel differently away from the club or if you thought I was too young—”

He cuts off abruptly as Tony leans off the wall and closes the distance between them, brows furrowing in concern as he lifts a hand and cups the back of his neck gently. Peter inhales at the sensation of callouses against his skin and fights a noise lodged in the back of his throat at how amazing Tony smells.

The older man’s thumb traces over his throat as his eyes soften, “Sweetheart, you look amazing, like, seriously, those jeans make your ass look even better and I wasn’t sure that was possible,” he murmurs, smiling as Peter blushes and ducks his head.

“And second, I do feel differently because you’re here, in my home, and I want you to relax and be yourself and know that I don’t care about your age or mine, because I like you and find you fascinating and I can’t wait to get to know you more.”

Peter looks up at him through his lashes and bites his bottom lip, watching as Tony’s gaze flicks down to it before coming back to meet his gaze. He wants to kiss Tony, badly, and it must show on his face because a moment later there’s a hand at the small of his back and Tony’s tilting his chin and their lips meet.

He sighs into the embrace, hands sliding up Tony’s torso to rest on his shoulders, steadying himself as he goes a little dizzy, breathless from the way Tony’s kissing him. The sound of the elevator doors opening and a soft ding indicating they’ve arrived has Tony pulling away, lips glistening and eyes hooded.

He takes Peter’s hand and leads him through the penthouse, grinning as Peter stares around wide eyed. The kitchen and dining area is beautiful, open concept and surrounded by glass, looking out onto the city as thunderclouds roll in. The island is so full of food it takes him a moment to process what he’s seeing and smelling before Tony’s tugging him over and putting together a plate.

“You like waffles? These are the best! Oh, you gotta try the bison bacon, it’s crazy good!”

The plate Tony hands him is so full it’s heavy, laden with more food than he’s seen in weeks. Tony ushers them to the table by the window, making sure he’s comfortable before he goes back for coffee.

Tony asks him a barrage of question as they eat and he answers them all easily, even the ones about his family, because when he looks in Tony’s eyes the light he sees radiating from the man makes his heart turn over in his chest. In turn, Tony tells him about his father, the abuse he’d suffered and how it had shaped him into the person he is.

He doesn’t even realize that they’ve finished eating and have been talking until a phone rings and Tony shoots him an apologetic look before stepping away to take it. Peter sits for a moment before rising and walking over to the windows, careful not to touch the glass as he peers out at the storm.

Lightning crackles in the distance and the sky turns purple, thunder vibrating along the glass and into his skin, a shiver running over his spine at the sensation.

“It’s beautiful,” Tony murmurs from behind him and Pete has to agree; he’s always loved storms, watching them roll in and wash away the dirt and sweat and filth of the world, leaving behind the clean crisp scent of petrichor.

He feels Tony shuffle closer and then there’s a hand at his waist, firm but gentle. There’s hot breath on his neck and he shivers, lids falling till his gaze is hooded and his skin feels hot, tight and filled with need. He sways back and presses into Tony, humming when his hand at his hip shifts underneath his shirt, skin on skin making him sigh.

“Lemme show you the lab,” Tony murmurs in his ear and that’s…that’s not what he had been expecting. There’s heat in his stomach, begging for attention, for more, but he nods, lets Tony take his hand again and lead him down two flights of stairs before he’s ushered into a room as big as his whole apartment and then some.

His eyes go wide as Tony points out things he’s been working on; warp drive technology for aircraft, clean energy engines for vehicles, water filtration systems for cities with lead problems, and so much more it makes his head spin.

He ends up sitting on a desk while Tony shows him an old Hot Rod engine he’s been tinkering with, grinning at the pleasure on the man’s face as he asks all the right questions and even makes a few suggestions that, based on his expression, take Tony by surprise.

Tony shakes his head and brushes his hands against his jeans, “C’mon, you don’t wanna sit here and watch me fuck around,” he murmurs with a wry smile. He tucks his hands into his pockets with a chagrined look, “I shouldn’t have gone on for so long.”

Peter smiles softly and shakes his head, reaching out to tangle his fingers in the collar of Tony’s shirt and tug him forward. The older man goes willingly, eyes wide in surprise as Peter tugs him between his spread legs. Winding his arms around Tony’s neck, he smirks, “I’d love to watch you fuck around. Seeing you covered in grease with a wrench in your hand is probably near the top of the list of things I want to see.”

Peter can see Tony’s throat bob as he swallows, eyes darkening as his hands tighten on Peter’s thighs. “And what would the top of the list be?” he asks, voice husky and low.

“Your face as I ride your dick till we’re both strung out and exhausted.”

A broken sound escapes Tony’s throat and a moment later his hands land on Peter’s hips, pulling him forward so he can grind their bodies together, his mouth ravaging Peter’s. He barely has time for a grin before Tony is lifting him and dragging him back to the elevator, lips and teeth bruising against his, both of them panting loudly as the elevator rises. 

He’ s pressed against the wall with Tony between his legs, hips grinding forward so their cocks press together in hot, slow drags that make his eyes rolls back in his head as Tony licks the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He’s trembling, already so close, just from this, and he’s clinging desperately to Tony, gasping and moaning, the sound of it loud in the metal confines of the elevator. 

“Oh god, T-Tony, feels….feels so good,” he gasps, keening as Tony bites his collarbone and worries a bruise onto it, hands firm on his hips, dragging them together over and over again, the pleasure relentless and just shy of too much. He barely realizes the elevator doors are open until Tony is once again manhandling him out and through the hall, pressing him against every flat surface he can before they’re in his room and shedding clothes. 

Tony slides over him, grinning as he runs his hand over Peter’s torso, nails digging into his skin lightly so he gasps, arches when they drag over his nipple, the sweet pain of it sudden and sharp. It’s followed by hot and wet and teeth and _oh god that’s good_. Tony plays with the other nipple not in his mouth till Peter’s writhing beneath him, half a sob dying in his throat each time their cocks brush together. 

When Tony reaches down and wraps a hand around them both Peter sees stars, hips hitching into the rough, calloused touch. “Look at you baby, look how wet you are,” Tony croons in his ear, “all slick and wet like a _girl_ ,” and _oh_ , _oh,_ Peter gasps at that, white hot lust tangling with embarrassment and shame and his cock twitches in Tony’s hand and, “Oh…you like that sweetheart? You like it when I call you that? My sweet little girl?”

Peter keens, hips jerking as he cums, panting and gasping so hard his chest hurts, vision whited out as his skull throbs, shudders running down his spine. When his vision finally clears he finds Tony watching him, awe in his gaze, lips bitten red and wet. He cranes his neck and kisses him, gasping as he whispers, “God, Tony, that was… _fuck_ that was so hot.” 

He can feel Tony’s cock is hard against his hips and arches into it, smirking when Tony gasps and his eyelashes flutter. “How about you open me up and get me all wet and I’ll ride you, just like I said I would,” he whispers and Tony’s eyes go dark, hungry and possessive as he nods and leans in for a filthy, wet kiss. 

The weight of Tony’s body disappears for a moment and then he’s back with lube, fingers slick and cool where they press against Peter’s hole, teasing and rubbing, the pressure and sensation enough to have his blood heading south again. Tony’s eyes are dark as they watch his face, his every expression and sound studied and filed away for future reference and that shouldn’t be hot, but it is, it really is. 

“You’re so fuckin beautiful baby, god, look at you opening up for me,” Tony murmurs, sliding a second finger in alongside the first. Peter gasps and moans when he scissors them, spreading him open further, a shudder running up his spine at the low burn in his belly that’s growing with each touch. 

_More_ , he begs, _please, please, please_

Tony leans up a little and sets his teeth to Peter’s throat, chuckling softly when Peter keens and shifts his hips, fucking himself onto Tony’s fingers desperately. When he’s babbling and begging and damn near sobbing with need, Tony presses a fleeting kiss to his jaw and nods, “Okay baby, how do you want it? Hard? Slow and soft? You want me to use a condom?” 

Peter shifts restlessly and shakes his head, “I’m clean,” he gasps, “you?”

Tony nods, “I’m clean baby, I’ll show you the report if you want,” he offers, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

“No, just…fuck, get inside me Tony, _please_ ,” he whines, arching his hips into Tony’s fingers. 

Tony curses and nods, because _yea_ , he needs that to be happening like, _yesterday_. He grabs both of Peter’s thighs and spreads his legs wide, “I’m not, I’m not gonna last if you ride me,” he murmurs breathlessly, sharing a grin with Peter. 

“Don’t care, just, fuck me, please,” Peter begs, arching his hips invitingly. 

Tony nods and braces Peter’s thighs over his shoulders, guides his cock forward and both of them moan as he presses in, hot and hard and thick. Peter shudders as he’s filled, spread wide and then left bereft when Tony pulls back till just the head of his cock is inside Peter. 

Peter whines wordlessly and the sound of it breaking high and gasping when Tony thrusts in hard and then sets a pace that has him reaching back for the headboard to brace himself. The room is filled with the lewd sound of skin on skin, moans and wet kisses, the pitch of Peter’s cries rising when Tony gets a hand on his cock and starts jerking him off. 

He can’t breathe, can’t see, can only feel, and every sensation in his body is confused; the kiss Tony presses to his lips bruises and burns, the thrusts of his cock against his prostate leave sweet heat curling through him, the drag of nails over his skin like licking salt with a cut lip. 

It’s too much and not enough and he can’t, he can’t _take it._

“Yes you can baby, you can take it,” Tony gasps–and that’s how he knows he’s babbling again. He sobs and shakes his head, pushes back against Tony’s thrust, begging for it to stop, for it to never end, for mercy. 

_“Fuck,_ Peter, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” Tony growls in his ear, “you gonna cum baby? I’m…I’m close,” he manages, hips pounding into Peter’s. Peter nods desperately and whines against Tony’s lips where they’re pressed to his, loose, sloppy kisses and gasping breaths being shared between each thrust. 

The slick slide of Tony’s hand, twisting on the oversensitive head of his cock as he pounds into him, each thrust dragging over his prostate and it hurts, hurts so fuckin good; it’s like sour-sweet candies that send a shudder over your spine and then soothe it away with sugary bliss. 

When he cums, it’s all he can do to breathe, let along keep his eyes open. His throat goes taut as he throws his head back, arching up into Tony as sensation overwhelms him. Distantly he feels warm streaks of cum hitting his chest and throat, then, as he manages to suck in a lungful of air, Tony cums with a shout of his name, grinding deep into him as heat spreads with each aborted thrust. 

They gasp and moan, clinging together as the lights in their eyes fade and the heat on their skin begins to cool. Tony’s gentle when he pulls out and Peter hears him get up, smiles when a warm cloth runs over his skin, gentle and scented with something he recognizes from Tony’s skin. 

When he finally manages to open his eyes, Tony’s laying on his side, watching him with a smile in his eyes and a nervous set to his mouth. Mustering his strength, he rolls over and slides his knee between Tony’s, kisses him slow and soft and sweet until the tension in his shoulders starts to fade. 

“So uh, that was, that was good,” Tony stutters, gaze sliding away nervously, “But I mean, I don’t want you to think that’s all I want,” he says quietly, gaze wary when it meets Peter’s. 

He has to bite his lip to refrain from laughing and leans in again to kiss him, “Well good, because I was kind of hoping we’d go out next time we, you know, go out,” he says teasingly. 

Tony stares at him in disbelief for a moment before smiling slowly, “Really? You, you want to go out?” 

Peter lifts a hand and traces the fine lines around his lips and eyes, over his cheeks and down his jaw, “Yea, Tony, I want that.” He smiles mischievously, “And if you’re very good, I’ll dance for you again,” he whispers against his lips, kissing him through the surprised sound that comes from Tony’s throat. 

Tony grins and rolls them over so he’s pressed against Peter more fully. “I promise I’ll be very, very good, _if_ you promise to be very, very bad,” he whispers, and when Peter laughs, he kisses him and nuzzles into Peter’s throat, pressing a kiss just below his ear. 

“Sounds like a deal.”


End file.
